Plan Against Princess Margarida

I crossed my arms, keeping my eyes fixed on him.

— Your story is far too convenient, Wobo. You were stabbed in the chest by Albert and survived? How? — I asked him.

Wobo let out a hoarse laugh that echoed through the corridor.

— Do you think I didn’t wonder the same? — Wobo growled.

— I was dying, yes. Bleeding, every step felt like the last. But I still had a healing potion with me. I used the last drop to close the wound, — Wobo finished.

He ran his hand over the scar on his chest, as if feeling the pain again.

— The potion saved my life, but not my strength. I spent days fleeing without eating, without sleeping, without bathing… only walking like a cornered beast, — Wobo said.

His expression hardened.

— That’s when I heard the news, — Wobo said through clenched teeth.

— King Albert had enslaved beastmen, elves, dwarves… the races that fought by his side. He turned former allies into merchandise! — Wobo continued.

A shiver ran down my spine. With each word, that world revealed itself to be filthier than I imagined.

— And how did you end up here? — I asked.

Wobo gave a bitter smile.

— I found this farm. The stench of slavery was everywhere. And it was here that I saw Oliver, — Wobo replied.

At the mention of the merchant’s name, my eyes narrowed.

— What does he have to do with you? — I asked.

Wobo leaned his forehead against the bars, staring directly at me.

— Oliver realized I was weak. He tried to enslave me with that damned ability of his. But I managed to escape before he could complete the seal, — Wobo answered.

My heart raced.

— You escaped…? And then? — I asked.

He straightened, his eyes gleaming with malice.

— I kept watching. I waited, I spied, until I formed my own plan. I discovered Oliver had parents… old, frail, living in secret. I captured them, — Wobo replied.

The blood froze in my veins.

— You what…? — I murmured.

— Yes. I made his parents my hostages. To this day, they remain hidden, under my control. If Oliver dares betray me, they suffer the consequences, — Wobo smiled as he spoke.

I remained silent, swallowing hard. The picture he painted was absurd, but the gleam in his eyes said it was no lie.

— So… the deal you two made… — I murmured.

Wobo spread his arms theatrically.

— Yes. Oliver pretended to put the mark on me to fool the other slaves. But we both knew he could never use it against me. If he dared, I’d make his parents pay, — Wobo said.

I clenched my fists, my heart pounding inside my chest. Part of me wanted to call it an outrageous lie. But another part… believed.

I stared deep into Wobo’s golden eyes.

— You are a monster, — I whispered.

He only laughed.

— No, Araya. I just play the same dirty game Albert has been playing for decades.

I took a deep breath, looking at Wobo for a few seconds, measuring the beast in front of me.

— For now you live, because you are not my priority at the moment, — I said in a low, firm voice.

The wolf-man raised an eyebrow, as if expecting something else. I showed no compassion.

— But hear me clearly, in the future you will pay dearly for everything. Today I have a bigger target. Margarida and the three who betrayed me come first, — I continued.

Wobo let out a low growl that could have been a laugh or a warning.

— Good, — he said, with that cold stare.

I’m not an idiot, I know if I rush now I’ll lose the advantage.

Before I left, he tilted his head to the side and murmured something that was not meant to comfort me.

— Albert is no better than the old king. He acts like the former monarch himself, — Wobo said, as someone speaking from experience.

— He imprisons the weak and executes the strong. And listen, I believe the old king, Albert’s father, had more to do with the death of the heroes than you imagine, — Wobo continued.

His words dropped like a stone into a deep lake. My mind immediately went back to everything Wobo had already said: the forced alliance, the sealing, the betrayal. There were patterns, and where there were patterns, there was a plan.

— And Margarida? Why am I still alive? — I asked in a thin voice before turning away.

Wobo shrugged, his eyes gleaming with an unquenchable hatred.

— Perhaps the princess disobeyed her father’s orders. Perhaps she has her own game or a shred of humanity. Don’t mistake it for mercy. She is dangerous on her own, — Wobo replied.

I left the bars with controlled steps. As I walked down the lodging corridor, I felt the ancient dust beneath my soles, the same floor that once carried my broken dreams and now would bear the weight of my plan.

In the room, I closed the door and stood still for a few seconds staring at the table. Romeo had fallen and, with him, the ability to move through space had entered my body. I opened my fists and began to mentally trace the first piece of the chessboard.

Margarida was the first knot to untie. She had ordered the execution of families like the Zairos, her hand would appear in the orders that burned the letters. To bring her down fury alone would not suffice, it was necessary to prove, expose, and then strike with precision. I needed three things quickly: information linking her to the executions, allies for the day of the attack, and a way to enter where no one expected.

I called Oliver. He appeared minutes later, dragging his old arrogance like a cloak. I told him we needed a plan to bring Margarida without her suspecting a thing.

Oliver stared at me for a moment, the merchant’s smile vanishing as he weighed the risk.

— It’s… risky. But not impossible, if I have the right channel. I know a palace guard who is… loyal to Margarida. Not to the king. If I pay him and explain it properly, he can deliver a message directly into her hands, — Oliver said in a low voice.

I stopped pacing and looked at him coldly.

— What can you offer him? Money? A favor? Information? — I asked.

Oliver pressed his fingers together in a characteristic gesture, mentally calculating values and possibilities.

— A silver boost and a future favor. That opens many doors. I can have him write that there are “urgent matters” only Margarida can assess, something that stirs her pride and curiosity. A queen or princess cannot resist a chance to exercise power in secret, — Oliver replied.

Ryn, who was watching while leaning against the wall, snorted.

— And what if she suspects a trap? What if she sends guards? — Ryn asked.

— That’s why the message must seem personal and delicate, — I answered.

— No accusations. A subject only the princess would want to check: a denunciation against a courtier aiding traffickers, a “whisper” of scandal she can resolve in private. Keep the message short, — I said.

— Invite her to come see proof that “only she” can verify. She will come, — I continued.

Kaela approached with sharp eyes.

— And if she brings an escort? — Kaela asked.

— Then it must seem like a private audience, — I replied.

— Oliver, tell your guard to ensure the response says she accepts without formal escort, or at least that she sends only a discreet messenger in the first contact. We need the pretext to lure her here without raising alarms, — I ordered Oliver.

Oliver nodded, already catching the tone of the plan. He took a small pad and scribbled quick calculations.

— I’ll go. I’ll pay the guard now. The message will be clear: “There is proof that requires your eyes, Your Highness. Come personally and uncover the truth.” He only brings back the response, — Oliver murmured.

— And we’ll only know if she accepts when he returns, — Oliver continued murmuring.

— Do it now, — I ordered.

— And bring the messenger to me. I want no intermediaries, — I said.

— If she accepts, I want her to come as soon as possible. Also prepare an escape route and surveillance. If it’s a trap, I don’t want her slipping away, — I continued.

Oliver smiled, half excited and half apprehensive.

— I can manage that tonight. And I’ll ask him to bring the response straight to the lodging and directly to your hands, — Oliver said with a grin.

As he left to carry out the task, I felt the tension tighten in my stomach. It was a dangerous game, calling a princess into the slaves’ domain was an affront that could ignite anything. But the instinct that followed me was colder and more methodical than fear — it was the feeling of finally taking the initiative.

I returned to the window of the room, observing the shadows of the lodging. I asked Ryn to place men in position, Kaela to leave watchers in the alleys, and ordered Oliver, upon returning, to speak with no one but me. If Margarida accepted, she would come out of curiosity, disarmed of suspicion. This could be the best chance I had to take revenge on that cursed princess.